


Silent Attack

by Ayana_Seishin



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FC Barcelona, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Football, Football | Soccer, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, La Liga, La Masia, Leo Messi Protection Squad, Mute Lionel Messi, Muteness, Team as Family, no beta we die like men, overprotective teammates, supportive team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayana_Seishin/pseuds/Ayana_Seishin
Summary: “We thought he was mute,” Cesc Fabregas once said in an interview about Messi.Well, what if he was?***Gerard Piqué meets a quiet boy who scores and dribbles like a supernatural being. Everyone is in awe while Gerard is annoyed and a little bit fascinated. Though it's hard for him to admit it at first.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. La Masia: the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I'd like to warn you that English isn't my first language and I haven't practiced it in a while. Which is why I actually decided to write it. I desperately need practice and what's a better way to get it than writing fanfiction, right?  
> Secondly, I actually don't know that much about football as I've only recently started following it.  
> In the end, I hope that I've successfully lowered your expectations without actually scaring you off.  
> Please don't be afraid to let me know of any mistakes.

The new boy was very quiet. The first time Gerard saw him, he was surrounded by the team personnel. All of them were throwing worrying and incredulous glances at their new arrival. Like they could not believe he was actually there. It was not subtle at all, and Piqué couldn’t help but pick up that anxious energy immediately. The boy was pointedly refusing to look at people around him, which did not add any positive points to the overall impression either. Gerard was struggling to understand how the arrival of such a small and dull person could create the heaviest atmosphere he had ever felt on the pitch. 

Their coach, however, either did not notice anything or decided to ignore the evident tension that filled the air. He joyously sprinted towards the new boy, his sheer presence pushing aside other adults. The boy hesitantly shook a hand of the too eager coach, who then proceeded to make an official introduction of their new player to the team.

His name was Lionel Messi, and Piqué thought that he would not last a month in their team. 

He was wrong. 

It was a training match. The moment Messi touched the ball Gerard could not believe his eyes. His brain refused to connect the image of the thin boy with the way he played. Piqué was so sure that the new guy got possessed by some football spirit, which had been imprisoned in that ball for centuries, that he was vigorously looking around him trying to see if the others noticed the supernatural transformation too and missed the first goal scored by the little genius. He heard his team screaming and celebrating. Their bodies began swiftly covering the little figure like a swarm of bees while Messi was just standing there and smiling. He had dimples. Of course, he had. 

The boy was a mystery. And Piqué did not like mysteries. 

But the thing is Messi did not talk. He would nod at whatever the coach would say to him and then do his magic on the pitch. Their teammates did not try to initiate a conversation with their new little star, being content with affectionate pats on his head or back, and a few hugs, while some went so far as to throw an occasional praise his way. But something was not right. It was like an itch that you cannot quite locate. Gerard was trying hard to figure out what had caused it, but the boy was so ridiculous that there were too many pieces that did not fit together. Still, he kept looking.   
It was because of his obsession with this new kid that he was the first to notice; though he would heatedly deny it if confronted. The boy did not just keep silent when someone was trying to talk to him. He also did not make a sound when he had been tackled or scream to his teammate to signal that he was open to receive a pass. He was completely silent. Not a single sound. 

Gerard could not decide whether he was more shocked by this revelation or by the fact that no one of their team staff took responsibility to warn the players. That was why he kept monitoring the situation until the end of the match. He was not quite sure about his theory if he was completely honest. However, he was determined to find out as soon as possible. So, Piqué did the most inconsiderate thing that he could come up with. He confronted Messi in the locker room after the training. With every player present. He also did not think to keep his voice down. That could probably be his only excuse. He had not thought it through. At all.

The kid was looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Gerard noticed a blush quickly covering Messi’s face and steadily stretching down his neck. The whole room was silent. Everyone froze and turned to the pair standing at the center of the room. Someone was in the middle of taking off his jersey, another was rummaging through a locker while others ceased their conversation to check whether Piqué really asked what he just asked. 

And he did, of course. 

He would love to say that at that moment he knew it was the wrong thing to do. But, honestly, he was so focused on Messi’s face that he did not see anything else. Did not _think_ of anything else. 

The locker room looked like someone put a film on pause. Gerard did not know how much time had passed when Messi gave him such a small nod that if he had not been watching him like a hawk, he would have missed it. 

“Cool,” said Piqué, nodding in response. 

After that, it seemed like the whole team let out a collective breath no one knew they were holding. 

Messi was nervously looking anywhere but at his teammates. Gerard patted him on his shoulder and went to his own locker. The rest followed his steps and a few moments later the locker room was once again buzzing with young voices, discussing the game and their ambitious plans for future. 

Later that day, when they were all hanging out in Messi and Fabregas’ room, Leo handed over a note to Gerard.

_“I thought you knew.”_

“Nah, they hadn’t told us anything,” was Piqué’s answer. “Though it seemed like they were really nervous bringing you there, and they’d probably tell us something if the coach didn’t take the matter into his own hands. But the guy does not like sentiments. So, he probably decided that we would figure everything out ourselves. Well, he was right,” he added grinning like he singlehandedly solved the world’s main conspiracy and now deserved an award for it. 

Leo smiled shaking his head in disbelief and feeling the blush that had just started subsiding getting back on his face. This was certainly not how he had planned his first day on the team to go. But he did not complain. 

“So, do you use some kind of sign language? Can you teach me?” 

Gerard sounded genuinely interested. But what Leo did not know at that moment was that his new friend would be a disastrous student. 

_“Sure!”_ he wrote back.

And later he would probably regret signing up for it. But that evening he was truly happy to find his first good friend in La Masia. 

***

Everything was well between the boys after that. They kept training hard and little by little the team had been learning the sign language Leo used. Even though, Gerard was the one constantly asking Leo different words and phrases, he was by far the worst at it. Messi reckoned that it was because Piqué was too eager to learn as much as possible in as little time as he could that, in the end, everything just got mixed up in his head. Leo tried to cool him down. However, nothing worked to dissuade his new friend. 

In the morning of their first real match together, they were sitting cross-legged on Leo’s bed in front of each other. 

“Can you do this one slower?”

Leo sighed and repeated the sign once again. This was how he spent every evening for the past two weeks.

“Give Leo some rest. It’s gonna be his first official match. He needs to be focused.” Cesc was lying on his bed clearly annoyed by his teammates who were intent on disturbing his nap. 

“Come on. Leo is glad to help his best friend, right Leo?” 

Gerard turned to look at Messi only to be met with the boy’s sheepish smile.

“Traitor!” Piqué did not hesitate to exclaim, pointing an accusing finger at the forward. “Is this how you treat your friends, Leo?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Leo signed hurriedly. 

Big, worried eyes of the little forward were piercing into Gerard’s helpless soul begging for forgiveness. He tried to keep the façade of being deeply offended by giving him a scandalized look but quickly surrendered.

“It’s not fair,” Piqué groaned, looking up pretending to address some divine being to express his sorrows while also embracing Leo because he really could not resist the charm of his newly acquired friend. Gerard already knew that this little guy would be the bane of his existence. And he also did not mind. 

“If you are finished, we need to hurry up. I don’t want to be among the last ones in the locker room,” Cesc grumbled. 

“Getting there thirty minutes earlier than anybody else doesn’t sound much better to me,” Gerard added in response. 

“Well, you can arrive at halftime just as usual,” Fabregas started raising his voice in exasperation, though it lacked real heat. “We can play without you.”

“It was one time, and you know it,” Piqué exclaimed pretending to be insulted. He grabbed his chest for good measure trying to put on a dramatic show. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. The second time you came ten minutes before halftime,” his friend replied unable to hide a smile. 

“This is an outrageous lie, Leo. Don’t trust him. He’s trying to paint me black,” Gerard attempted to defend himself but stopped when he heard a weird wheezing sound. Both boys looked at its source only to find Leo lying on his side unable to cease his laughter. They looked fondly at their friend, and Piqué was unashamed to admit that he felt a little proud of being the cause of it. Perhaps he could not exactly say that he had _heard_ Leo laughing, but the image was beautiful, and he definitely stored it as one of the best memories from his days at La Masia. 

***

The match was going quite well. Leo had started on the bench. It was the 65th minute when Piqué saw him warming up on the sideline. Gerard was trying hard to hide his uneasiness at the sight of Leo getting ready to come up. He knew it was not rational. If anything, he should be glad that their new forward was about to join the game. It would definitely cause some issues to their opponents’ defense. However, nothing could help him shake off the feeling. 

“Stop worrying that much. Leo can take care of himself,” a voice behind him reasoned. 

“I know, Dani,” Gerard replied to the goalkeeper but did not take his eyes off Messi who had just got on the pitch. “He’s just so small,” he muttered under his breath. 

It’s not that he doubted their new forward, quite on the contrary, he was certain Leo would demonstrate an astounding game. However, Piqué was worried about the tactics their opponents would resort to in order to stop him. 

Gerard was distracted from his thoughts by an unexpected burst of cheering. He focused his gaze on the opposite side of the pitch where Leo was dribbling past four rival defenders. Piqué caught a sight of the boy jumping over a tackle aimed at him, acting like it was all part of his morning routine. Gerard was mesmerized by the smoothness of Leo’s movements. It seemed as though he anticipated every motion of his opponents. Shortly after, the pitch was exploded by a celebration of their team. Piqué ran towards the gathering to give a hug to his friend and maybe to check for himself whether the boy was real or not. It’s not that Piqué was a hundred percent convinced after that. But it helped a bit. It also helped to make sure that Leo was okay. Judging by an all-too-knowing glint in the shorter boy’s eyes, Leo noticed the way Gerard was watching him. He did not look annoyed or mad so that was a plus. However, Gerard tried not to keep such a close watch on the boy. He clearly was doing fine. Or better than fine, actually. So, there was really no need to watch every step he took like a mother bear. Especially, when the opposite team was going for a revenge attack. He really needed to start thinking about his own game. 

Twenty minutes later, the score was 4:2 with their team in the lead. Piqué had to work hard on the defense as their rivals were not ready to surrender and kept fighting with all their might. Gerard stole the ball from a rival player and sent it flying to the middle of the field, hoping that one of his teammates would be able to get it. One of them indeed did. It was Messi, who took the ball and immediately went for a counterattack. He was getting close to the penalty area when suddenly two other players went for a tackle and then three pairs of legs collided. Leo lost his balance and went to the ground shooting out his arms. The landing was not too graceful, either. 

The first time Gerard had heard the expression “to see red”, he did not understand what it meant. Does your vision go red all of a sudden like when you enter a darkroom that photographers use to make prints? Later he heard that it had something to do with bulls and a red cloth or with the color of your face when you get angry. No matter what explanation he was offered, the idiom never made sense to him. Until it did. 

It was a desire to paint everything red with your foes’ blood. The expression got crystal clear to him the moment he saw Leo going down. He did not remember how he got from one side of the pitch to another. Next thing he knew, all his teammates except one were holding him back grabbing at his arms, jersey, or whatever they could reach, while he tried bulldozing through everyone onto his way to those two tacklers. He pulled and struggled against all those around him until he felt a small flick on his forehead. An action so bizarre and silly under the circumstances that he stopped fighting altogether. At that moment he realized that his tunnel vision had made him so unaware of his surroundings that he failed to notice a small figure of Leo standing right in front of him. 

“Stop it. I’m fine,” Messi signed, his movements slightly harsher than usual. Well, now he certainly looked pissed off.

“Sorry.” Gerard did not know whether he was addressing Leo, his teammates whom he had tossed around a bit, or the opposite team. Probably all of them.   
Leo patted his shoulder and went away. He still looked angry; though Piqué had a feeling that the forward had already forgiven him. He would certainly have to do something later to make up for his behavior, but the situation did not seem hopeless to him.

His teammates were gradually wandering off from him, grumbling at him for his outburst, when the referee showed him a yellow card. Fair enough.

The game continued after that. In the end, they still won 5:2 with a help of their more cool-headed forward. Piqué got lectured by the coach about keeping his temper under control on and off the pitch, which was unexpectedly brief. Perhaps the lack of serious consequences and their victory had veered the coach away from launching into an endless tirade. In the meantime, Leo was pointedly avoiding him, which was fine. Gerard preferred to have this conversation in private anyway. 

After having a shower and changing into his casual clothes, Piqué headed straight towards Leo’s room. He was rehearsing his apology when he knocked on the door. Gerard could have sworn that it clicked open almost immediately after that. On the threshold was standing one disheveled Lionel Messi. He was frowning, but at least he looked Gerard straight in the eyes. That detail soothed Piqué for some reason. 

“May I?” Gerard gestured inside the room. 

Leo nodded and went to a single bed standing along the right wall. It was not made up. Gerard could see a blue blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed. On the other side, there was a perfectly arranged bed covered by a blanket of the same color, while Fabregas was nowhere to be seen. Leo sloppily covered his bed with the blanket and took a seat on it. Gerard followed his suit and sat cross-legged in front of him. Suddenly he had a sense of déjà vu. Though an angry glare from Leo was undoubtedly a new thing. 

The boy leaned over to his side table and took a piece of paper from it. Gerard noticed a few lines of small writing on it. Leo handed it over to him. 

_“I really appreciate your ~~worry~~ support but I am not a helpless kid. I can take care of myself. I know that you probably mean well by looking out for me. But it’s not necessary. I can defend myself. I’ve been able to do it in the past and ~~I’ll be fine on my own~~ I see no reason why I’d need a protector now all of a sudden. _

_And by the way I’m not that short, Gerard!”_

Gerard was frowning when he finished reading the note, though the last line sparked a little smile from him. 

“Ok. First of all, I’m sorry. I overreacted a little bit and also maybe went a little overboard with keeping an eye on you throughout the game, or so I’ve been told,” Gerard relented seeing Leo raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Secondly, I don’t think you’re helpless. Though yes, Leo, you are short.” Piqué lifted his hand to shut off any possible objections that, judging from the indignant look on the other boy’s face, he was about to express. “But I can’t promise that I won’t come to your aid when I see you in trouble. And you can’t ask others of it. We are a team and, moreover, we are friends. That’s what friends do. There’s no way I’ll be standing there, acting like everything’s ok, when someone pushes you down. Be ready that I’ll always be there to stick up for you and kick some asses.”

Piqué grinned at Leo who was trying to fight off a fond smile and keep an angry look at the same time, which resulted in a petulant pout. 

“Fine,” he signed, rolling his eyes when Gerard’s grin grew wider. 

“You love me, don’t deny it.” Piqué jumped on the boy and almost crushed his bones in a bear hug. He was laughing while Leo tried to set himself free by tickling his captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Leo is using Argentine Sign Language. However, I couldn't find much information about it except that it exists. Probably because I've only checked English sources.


	2. Silly Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard doesn't get jealous. At least, that's what he thinks. Cesc knows better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's some tooth-rotting fluff for you. I regret nothing and everything at the same time. It's silly, naive, and innocent. Hope someone likes it.

Gerard Piqué does not get jealous. That’s a thing. Also, there’s really no need for him to be jealous of anyone. _Ever_. Gerard is funny, outgoing, smart, and just an overall cool guy. So, he was not jealous. Cesc and Dani should just mind their own business.

Therefore, when Victor and Leo started hanging out together, having little chit-chats on and off the pitch, smiling at each other, laughing at their little in-jokes, betting who would score more goals in a match, Gerard didn’t feel a thing. His heart did not skip a beat, nor did it change its usual pace.

“You will burn a hole in him if you continue staring like that,” Cesc voiced his observations in a casual tone. He was lying on his back near the sideline, leaning on his elbows to support his upper body. The sun was shining brighter than ever, tormenting the young eyes of Barcelona’s youth team. Fabregas was trying to fight it, squinting hard to see two boys chasing each other on the pitch.

“I will not,” Gerard grumbled. Victor’s laughter echoed off the walls of their training center. Cesc turned left to look at his friend’s reaction. 

“Glad that you don’t deny the staring part,” he said calmly. “Acceptance is the first step to…”

“Oh, shut up,” Gerard interrupted his little lecture on dealing with jealousy. Non-existent, mind you. He had been getting one of those speeches every few days recently. His teammates would come up to him with their solemn faces, looking him straight into the eyes. Some would place their hands on his shoulders to add extra emphasis to their point. In a grave voice, they would say that they “understand his pain”, but “life can be like that sometimes, and your friend can find another friend besides you”. And “that’s ok”. Those scenes usually ended with Gerard storming off, his teammates' low giggles following his rapid retreating steps. They could laugh as much as they wanted, Gerard did not care. He was not a child. He understood perfectly well how relationships worked. And He Was Not Jealous _._

It’s just that he was the first to approach Leo, welcome him to the team, and actually communicate with the kid. So he felt like he had the right to be his closest friend. But then Victor came along, and suddenly he was Leo’s best friend. They were their star attacking duo while Piqué belonged to the defending squad. While there had never been a strict distinction between the players, Gerard felt like even their positions on the pitch said something about their relationships. Some were closer and some were left in the back.

Also, Victor swiftly picked up Leo’s sign language. He was the first to actually use it to communicate with Leo on the pitch, which was ridiculous as those two had already understood each other without any words. But now they could make a few brief signs to exchange some scheme during a game to fool their opponents with their intricate movements.

In the meantime, Gerard still struggled with the new language. He knew the basics but couldn’t hold a full conversation with Leo without the smaller boy feeling a need to grab a notebook to scribble a few words once in a while. It didn’t hurt his ego or anything. It really didn’t.

He heard a long sigh, coming from his right.

“Actually, I think you should be proud.”

“Why?” Gerard finally tore his eyes from the boys.

“Without you, Leo wouldn’t be able to get comfortable enough to approach or try to speak to anyone.” Cesc closed his eyes, basking in the sun. “You gave him the confidence,” he mused.

Gerard did not answer, instead getting back to shooting daggers at the pair. 

“Would you prefer him not speaking to anyone, shying away from every interaction, and feeling overall uncomfortable in our company?” Cesc asked.

“No, of course not,” Gerard blurted out and fell silent, trying to come up with a coherent explanation. “I just want to spend more time with him,” he muttered under his breath, hugging his knees, and hiding his face in them.

Cesc threw an incredulous gaze at him, not expecting such an honest reply from Gerard, whom he’d have usually expected to laugh it off or dodge the subject altogether.

“Maybe you should tell him just that,” Cesc said in a warm tone, giving a gentle nudge to his friend’s side.

“That would be embarrassing,” came the muffled words.

“Yeah, sitting here sulking because you’re jealous of your friend sounds much more dignified,” Fabregas mocked him.

Piqué shot up his head at that and turned a scandalized glare at Cesc.

“I am not sulking,” Gerard exclaimed. “I’m just thinking.”

Cesc was about to make a sarcastic remark to let him know what he thought about his friend’s thinking process when Gerard glared at him.

“Don’t you even start,” he hissed.

Cesc’s hands rose in a placating manner. After scrutinizing his friend with a worried look for a few moments, he sighed.

“Seriously, Geri, this is getting ridiculous. Just talk to him.” 

“Easier said than done.”

***

In the end, Cesc had to interfere.

Later that day, Gerard planned to spend some time playing new games on his PlayStation with Dani. But when he was about to turn it on, he heard quiet knocking on the door. Dani immediately went to answer, taking his jacket from the chair on his way. He opened the door in one swift movement and smiled when he saw who was standing there.

“Hi, Leo! He was waiting for you,” he exclaimed and hurried the smaller boy in. “I’ll leave you to it,” Dani added quickly and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Leo was awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. It seemed that he had recently taken a shower as his hair wasn’t fully dried out yet. He was wearing a huge gray hoodie with a few faded stains on it and a pair of baggy shorts. Also, his sneakers had certainly seen better days.

When he saw Gerard setting up the PlayStation, he smiled.

“You wanted to see me?” he signed.

“I-I… What?” Gerard stuttered in response.

Leo’s shy smile grew wider as though his friend’s confusion hadn’t surprised him at all.

“Cesc told me you wanted to see me. I thought you wanted to talk. But if you invited me to play, I’d love to. Victor-” Gerard squirmed at that name being signed – “asked me to play with him. But to be honest, I’ve never played before.” Leo looked down in embarrassment, and Gerard filled in the blanks. Leo didn’t want to play with Victor because he didn’t feel comfortable enough with him but would love to try it out with Gerard as he trusted him more.

Piqué grinned and gestured Leo to join him on the floor in front of the TV. The boy sprinted toward his friend and sat beside him. Gerard handed him a controller and picked a game. Amused by the younger boy’s excitement, he explained each button’s functionality.

They started playing, and after some time Gerard felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to face Leo, who was frowning a little bit, biting his lip.

“We haven’t talked to each other much lately. And I’ve seen the way you looked at me,” Leo signed but hesitated for a bit before continuing. “Geri, is everything okay? Did I do something?” His big, worried eyes pierced Gerard to the core.

Piqué was taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t expected that. He was trying to come up with an answer when he realized that small, adorable Leo was brave enough to actually address the issue and come to him when he himself was running away from it. Maybe it was his time to confront his feelings and be honest with his friend. Even if it was embarrassing and silly.

“No, you didn’t do anything, Leo.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I was an idiot. I saw you spending more time with Victor than with me and got-“ Gerard braced himself – “jealous.” He cringed at the word. “So I distanced myself without realizing it. And maybe I was in denial for a little bit.”

“You should have told me,” Leo signed slowly, looking earnestly at Gerard, and wiggled slightly. “You are my best friend. If you want to spend some time together, you can just tell me.” His timid smile reappeared on his face. Upon seeing it, Piqué crushed the boy in his embrace.

“Don’t tell Cesc he was right. He’ll never let me live it down,” Gerard whispered, his voice wavering with emotion, and felt Leo trembling in his arms.

The kid was laughing.

***

During the next practice, Cesc saw Gerard wrapping his arm around Leo’s shoulders and grinned smugly. Piqué rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. Fabregas hadn’t brought up the subject since then.

Gerard was grateful.

***

Everything went well after that. Gerard, Leo, Cesc, and Victor spent a lot of time together. Dani joined them too sometimes. They got on quite well with each other on and off the pitch. However, a few months later, they had a match in Madrid, where they realized that Gerard’s possessiveness was dormant as long as Leo was with his teammates, but the beast was simply asleep.

“Wow, you played so well. What’s your name?” Iker came up to a small kid after a match between the Real Madrid and Barcelona youth teams. He was amazed by the boy’s skills and intelligence with the ball. His friend was eyeing him suspiciously as he hadn’t expected Casillas to start a conversation with a player, especially from Barcelona. Actually, he had invited Casillas to watch his younger brother play against the team from La Masia and not make friends with the little blaugranas.

Before Leo could think of a way to explain to the stranger that he couldn’t talk, Gerard swept him away like a hurricane.

“Come on, Leo. We have to go,” he grumbled, muttering something about “those damned blancos” under his breath.

Leo turned in his friend’s grasp as much as it was possible and waved a hand at his almost-acquaintance apologetically while Piqué was dragging him away.

“Well, those blaugranas are weird,” Iker’s friend noted.

“Yeah, they are.” Iker’s eyes followed the odd pair heading away from them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Iker so much that I wanted him to meet Leo a bit earlier. So here's that.


	3. The Establishment of the Squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard gets reprimanded by the coach and draws an unexpected conclusion. This is the beginning of a legendary squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened. Honestly. I was planning on writing about something else but ended up with this. I hope you aren't tired from overprotective idiots. Because there'll be a lot of them. Also, I feel like I'm becoming repetitive.   
> I promise there's going to be some development. Just please be patient with me.   
> P.S. Thank you for reading it. There aren't many readers, but at least someone takes the time to read this mess.   
> Oh, and Happy New Year, of course.

“The referee is an asshole.”

“Geri! Don’t say that!”

“Nah, he is right, Cesc.”

“Dani!”

The Barcelona dressing room was filled with players in various stages of exhaustion. It had been a tough first half, and the boys were glad to finally get a brief break within the solid walls of the stadium before getting back to the pitch.

“What? How many times he’s going to deny a clear foul?” their usually calm goalkeeper snapped, shooting up from his seat. The boys instinctively turned to look at the farthest corner of the room, where Leo was silently tying up his boots. Victor eyed him worryingly from the nearest bench, rubbing absentmindedly his knee – he’d been tackled a couple of times too, but their opponents had clearly chosen Leo as their primary target.

“Leo?” Cesc called him hesitantly, hiding a silent “are you ok?” behind the forward’s name.

The boy didn’t even lift his eyes, just gave a barely visible nod, and kept on fixing his kit. Victor leaned into him and started murmuring something, his eyebrows knitted together. Leo’s face didn’t betray a thing as though he didn’t hear what was being said, determinedly hiding his eyes from his teammates.

“I suggest that we give them a taste of their own medicine,” Gerard declared to the group, drawing the team’s attention back to him. His words instantly sparked a heated discussion: there were shouts, supporting his suggestion, as well as those that were adamantly against it.

“It won’t work,” a hoarse voice of their coach ceased the debate. He slowly entered the room, a striking silence instantly falling upon it. “We’ll be carded,” he added, shaking his head a bit. A sigh escaped his mouth before he continued, “I know this is hard, but we have to keep going. We are in the lead. They are trying to stop us using ill means, but we have to show them that it won’t work.” He looked around the dressing room. “They can try to stop us, but fouls can’t win a game. Goals can. We have to be smarter, faster, and keep pressuring them. Don’t let them get control of the game or your head. They are afraid of us, they feel intimidated. Such a play is an indication of weakness. But we are Barcelona, and we don’t get intimidated that easily. Come on, boys, you know what to do,” he finished his speech by clapping his hands encouragingly, noticing that there was a spark again in the kids’ eyes, a determination to keep on fighting.

However, before leaving he had to do one more thing.

He strolled to his quiet, little forward sitting in the corner of the room and crouched in front of him.

“Leo,” he called and was met with an uncertain look of the big brown eyes, “how are you feeling? I can sub you off if you want,” he offered in a soft tone.

Messi shook his head vehemently at the question.

“That’s what I thought.” He smiled ruefully. “Be careful, ok? Don’t keep the ball for too long and watch their positions at all times. If you want to get off, just give me a sign, ok?” After getting a nod in response, he ruffled the boy’s hair and straightened up. “Keep an eye on each other, boys,” he addressed the team before leaving.

***

Gerard had started sprinting toward a clash even before he heard a whistle. He saw Leo rolling a few times and then sitting on the grass when the force that propelled him forward wasn’t enough anymore. Messi’s face usually devoid of any emotion in such situations was streaked with tiredness, his hair damp with sweat.

Normally, he would shoot up immediately after going down and keep running towards the goal as if nothing happened. Though it certainly could throw defenders off their rhythm, it also irritated Gerard a lot, since he regularly got a chance to see the state of Leo’s legs after such games. Trust him, it’s never pretty.

So, seeing Leo on the ground actually was a bit of relief, but it also led Gerard onto his next move.

“Come on, you saw it! It should be a red, he did that on purpose!” Piqué yelled, getting into the referee’s face. All around him, he heard his teammates screaming similar things at the guy, who was backing away from them with placating hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard saw Leo calmly standing up, taking the ball under his arm, and walking to the spot the referee had earlier indicated. The boy’s face was almost bored like all that nonsense that they had created was unnecessary, and he couldn’t wait to get back to the game. However, the overall impression was spoiled by his chest moving up and down frantically, the amount of grass and dirt covering his legs, and sweat coming down his face as though he was standing in a downpour all night.

“Look at him, he’s fine. If I wanted him injured, he wouldn’t be standing right now,” said the player who made the tackle. The very moment he uttered the last syllable of his remark, he was confronted by Gerard’s tall frame, their faces mere centimeters from each other.

“You are damn lucky he’s not injured,” the Barcelona defender growled. “Cause then you wouldn’t be standing either.” Both players were trying to obliterate each other with their glares, their foreheads bumping.

Piqué felt his teammates dragging him away from his opponent. His struggling had shortly proved to be futile as he was clearly outnumbered. 

“Calm down, Piqué, you’ve been whining the whole game,” he spoke with a mocking grin when they had at least a meter of space between them. “I don’t hear your friend complaining. Messi, right?” He turned to Leo. “Tell your boyfriend to cool down. He’s been a pain the ass the whole match,” he said with a challenging glint in his eyes directed at Gerard and deliberately placed a hand on Leo’s shoulder. The boy made a halfhearted attempt at shaking it off but other than that did nothing to make his annoyance known.

“Don’t touch him!” Gerard bellowed with renewed vigor. 

“Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m sure your friend can speak for himself. Right?” He squeezed Leo’s shoulder and pulled him a bit. The boy cringed visibly at the action.

“This is it,” Gerard muttered, getting ready to launch himself at the enemy when suddenly the referee emerged on his way. The man took a red card out of his pocket and showed it to the boy, who finally got out of Leo’s space and threw himself into arguing with the referee instead. But before Piqué could send a victorious chuckle his way, he got a yellow one himself.

“Worth it,” he mumbled under his breath. 

The referee harshly dismissed all the complaints and went to control the players forming a wall. 

His jaw clenching, Gerard was still breathing hard from the encounter. He had been honestly trying his best to keep his composure. Everyone knew how sensitive he was when his teammates, Leo in particular, got fouled. Even though he promised to control himself, it was still hard to restrain himself from throwing fists. Especially, when a referee wasn’t doing his job for fu-

“Geri, calm down,” he heard Cesc saying beside him.

“I can’t. I swear that referee was either bribed, or he is just fucking blind!” Gerard snapped. “I lost count of how many times Leo got down during the match.”

“Well, it’s almost over. Come on, we just need to get through the last fifteen minutes.” Cesc slid his hand to the back of Piqué’s head and pushed him slightly to get his friend going. “Try to not kill anyone please,” he said jokingly though it didn’t sound as lighthearted as he had intended.

“Can’t promise you that.” Gerard tried to grin though it was as successful as Cesc’s attempt at lightening up the mood.

In the end, they still won the match, even though the second half didn’t feature any goals from either team, while the number of fouls committed kept piling up until the very end.

After the final whistle, the boys went straight to the dressing room. Leo among the first ones with Gerard hot on his heels. But the moment the defender set foot into the room, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Upon turning his head to see who it was, he saw their coach beckoning him aside. He followed the man to an old empty bench standing in the corner. After getting himself comfortable on the wooden surface, the coach patted on a space beside him. Gerard sighed and obeyed the silent instruction, knowing perfectly well what was coming. This certainly wasn’t the first reprimand from the coach he had got, and Piqué was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Geri, how many times should we have this discussion for you to stop assaulting every player who plays rough against us?” the man asked tiredly.

Gerard felt embarrassment igniting in his chest upon seeing prominent stress lines cutting through the older man’s forehead and those experienced eyes full of exhaustion. The boy hung his head in shame. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

The coach threw a studying glance his way and sighed.

“I’ve heard what you said about the referee.” The man shook his head. “You should be more careful.”

At that Gerard’s head snapped up, his eyes full of the fire again.

“But, coach, you must have seen how that asshole turned a blind eye every time we got fouled,” he sputtered indignantly.

“Gerard, language!” the man chastised his player.

“I’m sorry,” Piqué muttered with his eyes cast downward.

A deep sigh came past the man’s lips.

“During your career, you will face different players, referees, and coaches, but it doesn’t mean that you can start throwing fists and insults around like you are in a street fight when you feel like they act unfair toward you or your teammates.” He poked an accusative finger at the defender’s chest. “Also, I thought you’ve already talked with Leo about your overprotective tendencies.”

“I have,” Gerard pouted. “But he can’t just tell the referee what happened, can he?” came a quiet murmur.

“He can’t,” the coach agreed, looking away from Piqué. “Though I don’t think that in most cases he would, even if he could. He’s just not that type of a person,” the man added thoughtfully.

“Well, someone should do that for him,” Gerard remarked stubbornly.

“And you’ve decided to assign that role to yourself?” the coach inquired and paused for a bit, lost in his thoughts. “Though it’s not completely fair to accuse you while, to be honest, the whole team comes running the moment that boy goes down,” he admitted musingly, but seeing a victorious glee in those big blue eyes he hurried to correct himself in a strict tone, “which doesn’t justify your behavior in any way.” He hesitated before continuing in a lowered voice, “Listen. I’m glad that you look out for each other, especially for Leo, but don’t get overboard about it. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s quite hard to keep him down.”

“I know,” Gerard groaned in response. “Sometimes I just wish he’d stay down for his own sake.”

“That’s not particularly his style, is it?” A rueful smile appeared on the man’s face.

“You sound like you approve it. Wait until he’ll be getting injured every game he plays. You’ll lose one of your best forwards,” the boy ranted accusingly.

“Geri! First of all, don’t talk to me in that tone,” he scolded his pupil. The boy shrank in response. “Second of all,” he added with a softer voice, “I don’t approve it though I can’t help but be a bit fascinated by it. He is certainly going to have problems because of it. However,” the man paused for a moment and continued with a sly smile, “I’m sure that you won’t let anyone hurt him,” which earned him a puzzled look from Gerard.

“Coach, I don’t understand you anymore. You are sending very mixed signals,” Piqué complained. “Do you want me to protect him or not?”

The man let out a deep sigh.

“What I’m trying to say is that you need to be smarter, Geri,” he replied pointedly.

The boy shot up from his seat, a triumphant smile spreading on his face. Piqué clasped the coach’s shoulder in his hand.

“I got you, coach. I’ll be better,” he declared with a new fire in his eyes and a shrewd tilt of his head. Squeezing his mentor’s shoulder once again, he turned around and headed towards his teammates.

The man’s gaze followed the boy’s thin figure running excitedly away and shook his head.

“I am going to regret that, aren’t I?” he muttered under his breath. 

***

“I’ve gathered you here tonight to establish a great institute, which is going to serve for the better future of our team,” Piqué declared in a solemn tone. Hands clasped behind his back, he was pacing slowly back and forth in front of baffled Cesc, Dani, and Victor.

The boys had met in Gerard and Dani’s room earlier, lured there by the tall defender’s promise of sweets and games. Now, they were awkwardly sitting on Dani’s bed, choosing it over a chaos of sheets and pillows that lived on Gerard’s.

“Having conducted a thorough research of all our teammates, I’ve selected you three as the worthiest candidates to be a part of a new secret society,” he exclaimed, stopped in the middle of the room, and turned to his friends. “Welcome to the Leo Messi Protection Squad!” Piqué announced with his arms outstretched.

“What the-“

“Geri, is this really why you’ve called us!?”

“I’ve better things to do, Piqué.”

“Seriously?!”

Gerard watched his friends voicing their complaints calmly and then raised his hands, effectively silencing them.

“I’ve already come up with a set of rules.” He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and shoved it to his friends’ faces.

There was a moment of silence when the boys automatically started reading Gerard’s text, trying to decipher his scrawl.

“First of all, your handwriting is awful,” Dani grumbled, squinting his eyes in an attempt to make out anything.

“I don’t know about it, Geri,” Victor said apprehensively. 

“The second rule is shit, you don’t get into account the referees. Also, I would add a few more. You haven’t even addressed the issue of being proactive and taking some measures outside the pitch,” Cesc remarked, frowning in concentration. “Give me a pen.” He extended his hand expectantly and wiggled his fingers to hurry his friend. “We need to change their placings as well. You need to put the most important ones on top. Everyone knows that.”

Piqué’s grin was almost blinding. He handed his friend a pen from his pocket. 

“Secrecy is important!” Gerard argued without any vigor, smile lines evident around his eyes. 

“The first rule about the Leo Messi Protection Squad is you don’t talk about the Leo Messi Protection Squad. Seriously?” Cesc read, unimpressed by his friend’s antics, who only cackled in response but swooped away Cesc’s hand that was trying to scratch off the first line. 

“It’s a cool movie, leave it,” he laughed, wrestling with the boy for the list.


End file.
